


walking with spiders

by blindoves



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Character Death, just feelings, no actual spiders here, post 8x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 11:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindoves/pseuds/blindoves
Summary: “I killed a child,” she says.





	walking with spiders

“I killed a child,” she says.

The words have been stuck in her throat for so long, she’d been sure that if they ever got out they’d scrape her throat open like pieces of broken glass. But they don’t. They slip out easily and echo in the silence of the room. They’re just four words, she thinks, such a small sentence, it doesn’t even take ten seconds to say. But the history they carry behind them is as vast as an ocean that threatens to drown her.

Ezekiel blinks. He puts his papers aside and looks at her for a moment and then out of the window with a puzzled expression, as if expecting to be greeted by a wailing crowd.

“Not now,” she says, annoyed. She’s been annoyed since last night. Or maybe since last month, she’s not even sure anymore. “A while back. After the prison.” She’s told him bits and pieces of her story at the cottage. She never planned to, and yet they seemed to slip out of her, little pieces of herself that he’d pry out with seemingly no effort at all. Now that she thinks about it, maybe she’s been annoyed since the cottage.

His confusion is entirely justified. She’d burst into the room uninvited, a hurricane of guilt and fury. If pressed, she’d admit that this visit might not be entirely wise or well-thought. But here she is now and it’s all his fault, really.

They’d had dinner last night. That wasn’t an unusual affair in itself, but most nights they’d be joined by Henry or Jerry and Nabila, or even other folks from the Kingdom who relished the thought of getting to know their king better. He never sent anyone away. But last night it had been just the two of them and that had rendered all her habitual defenses useless. It's not like he is different with her when other people are around. It’s just less intense, easier to deflect and hide behind casual conversations.

But nothing really works when they’re alone. She knows, because she’s tried everything and he’s seen through it all.

He’d talked about bravery last night. Hers. There was other talk too, of theater and weapons, Henry, some arguments about food, a philosophical discussion about politics in this new world. It’s not like she doesn’t remember that. She does, she remembers every word. But it was the compliments about bravery and goodness that got stuck in her throat and caused her to brood in her room all night.

That and the hand-holding. That had made the brooding worse. She tossed and turned and paced, and all the while she thought about how his hand caressing hers atop the table had sent shivers down her spine. That wasn’t the plan. That had never been the plan.

As the sky outside her window started turning lavender, she narrowed her options down to two. She could pack up her things and disappear into the woods, which, of course, had been the plan all along. Or she could do the harder thing and slice herself open, take out all her fears and secrets and nightmares and plant them as seeds in the gardens. She could stay and watch them grow.

There was no in-between room here, no space for half-measures, for casual fucking and things left unsaid. She’d run out of fake smiles a while ago. She thinks she’s known this all along. But she also knows that the seeds she wants to plant are festered and he needs to know this too.

Perhaps doing this in the crack of dawn hadn’t been her best idea. She should have waited to have breakfast first, at the very least. When his eyes meet hers again and grow soft with understanding, her stomach drops.

“I’ve never told anyone this before. Tyreese was there, he’d found the girls first. But he’s dead now. Nobody else knows.”

She falls silent as Ezekiel rises and comes around the desk to stand before her. It’s so early, he hasn’t had the chance to put on his armor or his coat yet. He looks much smaller this way. Vulnerable. More real. His cheeks are still puffy from sleep. She wants to tuck him back into bed and wrap herself around him and sleep forever with the curtains closed around them. No monsters, no fear. Just a bed and his heart.

She draws back, leaning against the windowsill, clutching the sharp wood behind her. He leans against the desk right across from her, waiting.

“Her name was Lizzie,” she says. Her voice is steady. “Her father made me promise I would look after her and her sister before he died. I did. I kept them close at the prison. But I wasn’t there when it fell.” She doesn’t have the heart for two terrible stories so early in the morning. She knows by the slight tilt of Ezekiel’s head that he’s noticed the pause, but he stays silent.

“I found them after. Tyreese, Lizzie, Mika and Judith. We had all split up. It was just the five of us. We had no idea if anyone else was still alive. We found a cottage in a grove. Lovely place. Plenty of food, good defenses. It was the perfect place to stay. The girls thought we could stay there forever. That it could be home.”

She swallows around the lump in her throat. “Lizzie, she was… She was a troubled child. Before, they could have helped her. Medication, therapy, she could have made it.”

She looks down at the floor and sees a bed of autumn leaves. “She wanted to befriend the walkers. She’d give them names. She thought they were still people. We tried to tell her, but it was useless.”

She can taste salt in her mouth when she looks up to meet Ezekiel’s eyes. “Tyreese and I went out to hunt. We left the girls alone. When we came back, Lizzie had killed her sister and was ready to kill Judith.”

She’s thought about that moment for so long. If they hadn’t gone, if they’d come back earlier, if they’d come back later. She’d played out all those scenarios in her head a thousand times over.

“And you can replay them a thousand times again and it still won’t change what happened. But it’s hard to stop. I know.”

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken that last part aloud until she hears him speak. He’s moved away from the desk, coming to stand before her.

“I had no choice,” she whispers. “I had to. Judith. I had no choice. Someone had to do it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says and she can almost feel his sorrow radiating from his body and reaching out to intermingle with hers. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry you had to do this.”

“I promised her father I would take care of her.”

“Didn’t you?” he asks, and the question is so unexpected, it manages to startle her out of the blanket of sorrow that was starting to suffocate her.

“What?” she says.

“Didn’t you protect her from herself? What would have happened if she’d had a moment of clarity and realized what she had done to her sister? What would have happened if she had killed Judith the next day? If she had killed you and your friend? What would have become of her?”

She doesn’t want to imagine it, but the pictures come into her head uninvited and she shudders. She feels Ezekiel move closer, and when she looks up, his hand is hovering near her neck. A question, not a demand or an expectation. She shifts ever so slightly and he understands. Of course, he understands.

She closes her eyes for a moment and lets herself feel the touch of his fingers against the skin of her neck, the brush of his thumb against her jaw. _Oh_ , she thinks. If she were a witch, she’d turn back all the clocks twenty years, so that she could tell her younger self, "This is how it really feels. Wait for it".

“You had a terrible burden placed upon you. A responsibility that you didn’t ask for.” He’s using the same gentle tone he always uses with Henry when he’s upset about something and he’s trying to comfort him. She finds that it works surprisingly well on her too. “You did a terrible thing,” he says. “But also an act of great love. Few people can love so deeply that they would find the courage to do something like that. Few people are lucky enough to be loved so well.”

“You’re terrible, you know?” she says.

His thumb moves up to brush away the tears that are dampening her cheek. “Am I?” he says, cocking his head. “How so?”

“You’re not supposed to take such a story and turn it into something positive. It should be impossible.” She turns her head to press her face against his palm and he holds still, watching her. She never knew it could feel like this. She’d always imagined, but knowing it is something else entirely.

“The world ended, baby. Nothing’s impossible anymore. Certainly not in the Kingdom.”

The chocked laugh that escapes her lips is both a surprise and a revelation. To stand here, with her worst story finally let loose from the pit she had confined it in for so long, and to still be able to reach past all the sadness and a find a spark of life and joy inside her. That, too, would once have seemed impossible to her.

“You have a list of impossibilities you plan to conjure for your folk, your majesty?” she asks and feels herself smiling brighter when he laughs.

One day, she’ll count the lines that crease his eyes when he smiles. One day, she’ll have them memorized. She knows that now.

She hasn’t realized how close they’ve drifted, until the door flies open and they find themselves jumping back reflexively.

“There you are,” says Henry. “You were supposed to meet me for training.”

“Good morning to you too, Henry,” Ezekiel says. Henry’s so used to him by now, that he knows by the tone of Ezekiel’s voice when he’s being gently, but firmly, scolded. “Good morning,” he mumbles sheepishly and then rounds on Carol again. “You promised.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I lost track of time.” It’s true enough. She hadn’t noticed that the sky outside was turning bright and the silence of the dawn was being replaced by the soft noises of the Kingdom waking up all around them.

“You had training scheduled for so early?” Ezekiel asks.

“She says she doesn’t sleep,” Henry says, shrugging. She stifles the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Don’t even start,” she says when she sees the frown beginning to form on Ezekiel’s face.

“I’ll have Nabila bring you some tea. It really helps.”

She wants to say something sarcastic. “Thank you,” she says instead.

“Are you two done?” Henry asks. He’s already by the door, bouncing with impatience.

“Right behind you. Get your weapons ready.” He’s already flying down the stairs when she turns to follow him, but Ezekiel stops her with a light touch on her elbow.

“Thank you,” he says. “For trusting me.” He jerks his head towards the direction Henry’s disappeared to. “You’re not alone. I want you to remember that.”

She nods and they both stand still for a moment, tasting the change in the air between them.

She lets her hand trail against his arm as she moves towards the door, her fingers lightly tracing his palm before she lets ago. She smiles when she feels him shudder. “See you for dinner tonight?" she asks at the door.

“As the fair lady wishes,” he says, smiling.

Her breath comes easy as she climbs down the stairs. It’s a feeling she could get used to.

She’ll see him tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and commas are my mortal enemy. If you spot any mistakes, let me know, it'll be much appreciated!
> 
> Title from "Terrible Love" by The National.


End file.
